Chapter 125: Chapter 125 - Settle Down
The bath was supposed to calm her down.
She stood under the water longer than she needed to, soaping her arms, her shoulders, her legs, the motions automatic while her thoughts refused to settle. The casino replayed itself anyway. The noise. The lights. The way she’d laughed too easily. The way she’d let herself forget who she was for a few hours.
She shook her head under the spray.
That wasn’t her.
And now Malcolm was mad. Not openly. Not in a way she could argue with. Just quiet, closed, and that was worse.
She finished, dried off, pulled on her clothes.
When she stepped into the room, Malcolm was already on the bed.
Clean. Calm. Reading.
The same book again.
She paused, then crossed the room and sat beside him, close enough to feel the mattress dip but not touching.
"So," she said, testing the space between them, "what’s that book?"
He didn’t look up. "The Rose’s Trap."
She frowned slightly and leaned just enough to see the cover. It didn’t suit him at all. Not the genre. Not the tone. "You like those?" she asked.
"Hm."
She waited for more.
"Someone gave it to me," he said after a moment.
That stopped her.
Someone.
The word echoed louder than it should have. Someone who knew him well enough to give him a book. Someone from before. Someone who mattered. A woman, maybe. An ex. Someone he lost. Someone he never talked about.
She studied the book like it might answer her.
"I see," she said, keeping her voice even.
She shifted and lay back on her side of the bed, staring at the ceiling while he kept reading, unbothered, unhurried.
She lay there another moment, the ceiling dim above her, the silence growing heavier the longer he let it sit, until the question slipped out before she could stop herself.
"Who gave it to you?" she asked, softer now, the question mark lingering longer than she wanted it to.
He looked at her.
The shift was quiet but it unsettled her anyway, his gaze steady and fixed on her face, lingering just long enough for her to become aware of her breathing, of the way her chest felt too tight, of how exposed she suddenly felt under his eyes.
He did not answer.
Her fingers curled into the sheet, her thoughts tripping over each other, confusion blooming sharp and uncomfortable, why won’t he say it, why does this feel like it matters more than it should.
"We should sleep," he said, calm and certain, already moving as if the space she had opened was something he intended to close.
She watched him stand, a flash of irritation cutting through her, an unfiltered what the fuck sparking in her head as he reached for the light, his boxers sitting low, his shirt pulling tight across his shoulders, the sight distracting her despite herself and making her annoyance feel messier than she liked.
The light went out.
He returned to the bed and lay on his side, facing away from her, the mattress settling under his weight, composed and final in a way that left her staring into the dark with her jaw tight.
She turned too, facing the wall, a quiet huff escaping her as she replayed the moment, embarrassment creeping in as she realized how small the whole thing probably looked from the outside.
It’s ridiculous. Is she mad? About what?
Then he shifted closer.
Just enough for his skin to brush hers, warm and solid, the contact sending a jolt through her chest before she could steady herself, the familiarity of him grounding her even as it stirred something restless inside her.
She stayed like that for a second, staring into the dark, feeling foolish for how easily she had spiraled, for letting a single unanswered question get under her skin this badly.
With a small breath, she turned back toward him.
She pressed in close, closing the space completely, her arm sliding around his waist, her body fitting against his back, her cheek settling against him as if it had always known where to go.
He did not pull away.
His warmth stayed steady, his presence firm and real, and she held onto him, letting her breathing slow as the tension in her chest finally loosened, the unanswered question fading into the background as the simple fact of him took over.
For a moment it was only that.
The quiet.
The shared heat.
The steady rise and fall of his breath beneath her cheek.
Then she became aware of her hand.
Iyisha’s palm rested flat against his skin, already warm from the contact, and the realization of where she was touching him sent a slow spark through her body.
She shifted closer without thinking, her chest pressing more firmly to his back, her legs tightening around his, their breathing falling into the same rhythm again.
When her fingers began to slide downward, deliberate and unhurried, everything sharpened at once, the air, the contact, the way her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
Her fingers traced the hard ridges of his abs slowly, deliberately, learning every dip and swell of muscle beneath his skin.
She pressed harder just to feel how solid he was, how carved and warm, and a quiet hum of appreciation slipped from her throat before she could stop it.
Her hand drifted back up, greedier now, flattening over his pecs. Her thumb brushed one flat nipple, then pinched it lightly between finger and thumb, sharp enough to make his body react. Malcolm sucked in a breath, low and rough.
"What?" he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and sudden heat.
Before she could answer he pulled her up in one smooth motion. He landed flat on his back, sheets pooling around his hips, and hauled her over him so she straddled his stomach.
Her thighs bracketed his ribs, her weight settling right above the thick ridge of his cock straining against his boxers. He did not give her time to hesitate. His hand cupped the back of her neck and dragged her mouth down to his.
The kiss turned filthy immediately. Tongues sliding deep, wet, hungry. He sucked on hers like he had been starving, teeth grazing her bottom lip before diving back in.
Iyisha’s hands went straight to his hair, fingers twisting into the short strands at the nape of his neck, tugging just hard enough to pull a groan from his throat. She was panting already, needy sounds slipping out every time he angled his head and pushed his tongue into her mouth like he was fucking her with it.
His hands did not stay still. One spread wide over her lower back, following the dip of her spine, tracing the curve down and lower until both palms claimed her ass. He squeezed hard, kneading her, spreading her through the thin fabric of her sleep shorts.
His fingertips dipped under the hem, grazing the sensitive crease where thigh met ass, teasing the edge of the opening. She shivered violently, hips jerking forward on instinct.
He growled low and yanked her hips down harder, grinding her soaked core straight against the iron length of him.
The friction through their clothes was brutal, her clit throbbing against his cock, his hardness pressing up into her like a promise.
